


Oloron

by justsare



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dominance, F/M, First Time, Hermione is of age, I just can’t help it ok?, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Praise Kink, Severus is a bit squishy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27767185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsare/pseuds/justsare
Summary: “Please tell me that you are not privy to my thoughts.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 13
Kudos: 252





	Oloron

**Author's Note:**

> This is *completely separate from* and *unrelated to* my other, stalled-but-in-progress SS/HG work, and comes with an apology to @Ralina because a lot of it was written in what should have been editing time 🙂  
> Oh, and @GeekLoveFan, when you find this...you might want to wait til break.

Hermione pursed her lips and blew upwards, lifting her fringe from her brow, and closed her eyes for a fraction of a second as she debated whether or not she should raise her hand.

On the one hand, Professor Snape hated being interrupted. He had also made it clear, many times over the years, that she was an insufferable know-it-all.

On the other hand, he wasn’t lecturing right now; only supervising, and she would be asking a genuine question, which he had always mostly tolerated. Surely a question in N.E.W.T.-level potions was a good thing? 

However, he had been watching her, some times more subtly than others, for the last month and a half since the start of term. When their eyes met, he often held her gaze before blinking slowly and looking away. Each time, a shudder of arousal would run through her. She wondered if he knew, somehow, that ever since that night in the Shrieking Shack, she had been having some _seriously_ inappropriate thoughts about her Professor. The fact that he seemed to be making a concerted effort to be less hostile and more approachable, in all of his classes, and to all students, wasn’t helping her efforts to ignore her attraction to him. She was a little afraid that calling attention to herself in class would be a bad idea, but finally she decided to risk it.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, checked her potion to be sure it was in a safe state to ignore for a few moments, and very slowly raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Snape asked, neutrally enough. His eyes flickered over the class’ potions and then settled on her face.

“Sir, I have a question about this Mindfulness potion.” Snape nodded, so Hermione continued. “In a Forgetfulness potion, we use Lethe’s bramble as the catalyst and Styx serum as the reagent. If the Mindfulness potion is the counterpart to the Forgetfulness, why is the Styx serum still the reagent instead of something more like Felpham, or Cloud Water?”

Snape was quiet for a moment, his eyes still on Hermione’s face, and then he cleared his throat. “That is...an interesting question, Miss Granger.” Louder, he said, “Stasis charms for a moment, please,” and waited as the class obeyed. “Miss Granger has just posed a question to which I think you will all benefit from hearing the answer. Miss Granger, repeat the question, if you would.”

Hermione dutifully repeated her question.

“Does anyone know the answer?” Snape asked, looking over the seventeen students in the class. He gave them a few moments to think about it, seeming patient.

Hermione watched his face, waiting for his familiar sneer of derision to cross it, but it didn’t come.

“Can anyone tell me what some of the uses of Felpham are?” Hermione, Blaise, and Luna raised their hands. “Miss Lovegood.”

“It’s used in Mandrake fertilizer, Sir,” Luna offered.

“Good. Five points to Ravenclaw. Mr Zabini?”

“Felpham is used in Amortentia, Sir.”

“Indeed. Five points to Slytherin. Miss Granger?”

Hermione hesitated briefly. She had been going to say Amortentia. The third use she knew of was for a type of potion that was definitely not in the Hogwarts curriculum. She bit her lip briefly, not taking her eyes off of the Professor, and saw his infinitesimal nod. “It’s used in abortifacients, Sir.”

“Quite. Five points to Gryffindor for the answer, Miss Granger, and fifteen for the question.” Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest. He’d never given her points before. Snape’s eyes left hers and he turned to the blackboard.

He circled the Styx water in the ingredients list and wrote beside it _replace with 3 drops Felpham_? “Who had already added the Styx water to their potion?” Snape asked as he turned around. Thirteen hands went up. “Good. If you have already added it, please lift your stasis charms and continue to brew. The rest of you, please join me at Miss Granger’s station.”

Luna, Ginny, Ernie MacMillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley approached Hermione’s table, as Snape swept towards them. Hermione swallowed hard as her professor came to a stop beside her. He smelled of parchment and a clean, green sort of smell. Her heart was still racing, and she endeavoured to calm herself and pay attention.

“I do not usually condone experiments in class,” Snape said, just loud enough for the five of them to hear without disturbing the other students. “However, I do not think that anything catastrophic will happen with this substitution, and I believe that N.E.W.T.-level classes should be a time of discovery. Whether you opt for careers in Potions or merely use it as a tool in other specializations, you already have a solid foundation in the subject, so some experimentation is allowed. Now, Miss Granger, since it was your question, you will be doing the honours. Before lifting the stasis charm, please tell me your hypothesis.”

Hermione considered her words before speaking, something that was coming more and more naturally to her since the war. “I think that the purpose of Felpham in abortifacients is to encourage the body to recognize the...the foreign body inside it,” Hermione said quietly. “And it’s in Amortentia for recognition as well. So that we know what we’re smelling.”

“Good, five points. So what do you think adding Felpham to a Mindfulness potion will do?”

Hermione twitched slightly as he awarded her more points, and her sleeve brushed his. She cleared her throat. “I think it will aid in focus, Sir.”

“Fine. Go ahead and add three drops to your cauldron.” He held a small bottle out to her. Their fingers brushed as she took it from him, and she shuddered. His eyes came curiously up to meet hers and held there for a moment, before he hastily looked away.

Hermione’s hand shook slightly as she added the three drops to her potion, which shimmered and turned green, instead of the blue of the original. After a quick glance at the blackboard, she stirred slowly, clockwise; four turns, paused for five seconds, and then stirred anticlockwise; three turns.

“Good,” Snape said. “You all see the colour change. Does anyone else want to try the same, or will you carry on with the original lesson?”

The other four students looked at each other, at Hermione’s potion, at the blackboard, and back to their professor, clearly uneasy. Finally Ginny spoke. “I’m going to carry on the original potion, Sir. It was going pretty well and I was kind of hoping to use it to study for our Transfiguration mid-term.” The others nodded, relieved.

Snape gave a half-smirk and waved his hand, releasing them. “Back to your stations, then, please, and return to work. There is still plenty of time.”

“This is what happens when you start allowing students to keep their potions,” Snape murmured to Hermione, and she felt her heart race again. He was still standing very close to her, and he was peering at her potion, almost as though the aside had slipped out without him noticing.

“Good thing we don’t actually brew abortifacients _,_ ” Hermione replied quietly, regretting the words as soon as they left her lips.

A moment later, though, she heard him say, “of _course_ she’s funny as well as brilliant. Of fucking course,” and she stared at him in shock. Professor Snape would never say such a thing. Never.

“Um, Sir,” she said, barely above a whisper, “I think something is wrong.”

He turned to look at her, still half smirking. _Why does he look so hot when he smirks?_ she wondered, just as she heard _don’t look at her tits, don’t look at her mouth, stop looking at her._ Hermione paled, and Snape moved slightly closer, clearly concerned. _Her eyes are dilating. Has she inhaled the fumes? She wasn’t that close to it._

Hermione grasped the side of the table for support. “Sir...please don’t be angry, but…”

“What’s the matter, Miss Granger?” Hermione closed her eyes, feeling him much too close for comfort. _Her cheeks are flushed,_ **_fuck, stop biting your lip_ ** _, this is an unusual reaction to a potion, I wonder what else she’s taking? Surely the Gryffindor princess isn’t using..._

“Sir-!” Hermione’s voice was anguished. “Please...stop thinking so loudly!”

_What’s she on about?_ **_Oh, those lips -_ ** _Severus Snape, you have a student in distress. Stop thinking about kissing her. And definitely_ **_do not imagine her lips around your_ ** _-_ his thoughts were interrupted by Hermione’s gasp. Her eyes were open again and staring at his mouth, her lower lip held between her teeth, and her chest heaving. He frowned.

“Please, Sir, I think I need to leave the room,” Hermione almost moaned, and Snape frowned, taking her in. _Drained of colour other than the flushed cheeks and neck, beads of sweat on her brow, eyes dilated, rapid respiration. She almost looks..._ **_aroused_ ** _, but that can’t be right. God, is this what Hermione Granger would look like in bed?_ **_Stop that_ ** _,_ he admonished himself, just as she shuddered. She closed her eyes as realization began to dawn on his face. “Miss Granger,” he hissed, barely audible, “please, _please_ tell me that you are not privy to my thoughts.”

Hermione’s eyes remained closed as she whispered, “I think I might be, Sir.”

“I am one of the greatest Occlumens the world has ever known,” he murmured dangerously, “and I do not feel you inside my head. Are you a Legilimens?”

Hermione shook her head desperately, her eyes opening and meeting his. “No, Sir. I’m not even a very good Occlumens. I think it’s the potion,” she whimpered.

His cock twitched at the sound, and he thought _oh god I want to make her whimper like that again_ before his hands formed tight fists at his sides. “We are both standing over the potion, Miss Granger, and yet it does not seem to have affected me.” They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. He sighed, then tore his gaze from her to look over the classroom. All sixteen students were bottling their potions. He drew a deep breath, then spoke softly. “Hold tight here for a moment, Miss Granger.”

He stepped away from her, his mind racing. Moving to the front of the classroom, he accepted each student’s labelled potions from them, grading as he went, struggling to keep his voice even. “Acceptable, Miss Patil. Five points to Gryffindor. A foot of parchment on how it could be improved, for Friday’s class, yes? E, Miss Patil. Ten to Ravenclaw. E, Mr MacMillan, and E, Mr Finch-Fletchley. Twenty to Hufflepuff. Ten to Gryffindor, Miss Weasley, very good. E.” And on he went through the students until only Hermione was at her desk, slowly tidying her ingredients away. The flame had been turned off under the cauldron but she was not bottling it.

Ginny and Luna paused at the door. “You alright, Hermione?”

“Yeah, Ginny, thanks. Professor Snape and I are just going to...see whether my potion is salvageable. I’ll see you at dinner? I have a free period next, heading to the library.”

“Sure,” Ginny said, and they left, closing the door behind them.

Hermione felt Snape’s magic ripple through the room as he locked and warded the door.

“Miss Granger, can you hear my thoughts from where you are?”

“No, Sir.”

He stepped closer. 

“Now?”

“No...Sir.”

He continued to approach her slowly.

... _this is insane, I don’t even know how this is possible, and why_ **_her_ ** _of all people, it’s not like I fantasize about_ **_any_ ** _other student, fuck, stop thinking that, she’ll be able to hear you again any - ah. Too late then, it looks like._

“You fantasize about...me?” Hermione asked, incredulous, before clapping her hands over her mouth in horror.

_Don’t cover your lips, don’t hide that sultry mouth-_ Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“This is so far from appropriate that I find myself at a loss, Miss Granger, to be quite truthful.”

Hermione nodded, avoiding his gaze. She was terribly warm, despite the damp chill of the dungeon classroom, and there was a tingling between her thighs.

“What…” Snape took a deep breath. “What potions do you take?”

“A contraceptive,” Hermione blushed, but he only nodded. “And a calming draught, a mild one, to help with...well, everything since…”

“The war,” Snape offered, and she nodded.

“I’m wondering if this might be a reaction between the fumes of your potion and the calming draught,” Snape mused aloud, “but it’s unusual. I also take a calming draught, and they are not usually that dissimilar to each other. I do not hear your thoughts…” he trailed off, his eyes on her face. 

“I’m going to use my wand for a quick diagnostic spell, Miss Granger,” Snape said, before a quick and somehow gentle movement conjured a series of glowing rings around her body. He studied them briefly before meeting her gaze. _Say ‘cat’,_ he thought.

“Cat.”

_Say ‘mushroom’._

“Mushroom.”

“Do you hear...everything? Whether it’s directed at you or not?” He occluded as firmly as he was able, and imagined her picking up the book from the table and handing it to him. She did so almost immediately.

“That’s quite impressive, Miss Granger.” _A potion reaction that can counteract Occlusion? This is insanely dangerous. Thank fuck neither Dumbledore nor Riddle knew about this. I’d be a dead man. More of a dead man._

His horror was mirrored by Hermione, who shuddered.

“Yes,” he offered suddenly.

“Yes?” Hermione repeated, meeting his eyes again, wondering to which question he was replying.

_Yes, I fantasize about you, your soft lips, your tiny body, your perky tits, your brilliant mind._

Hermione’s jaw fell open in shock. “You’re going to obliviate me once this wears off, aren’t you, Sir.”

Snape said nothing, only began to examine the potion in the cauldron. “I think it might still be testable,” he said instead, conjuring small vials. “Help me bottle it, please,” he asked, and Hermione obeyed. _She’s so obedient. So eager to please. And so...so pleasing._ Hermione shuddered. “How many points have I given you today, Miss Granger?”

“Twenty five, Sir.”

“Hmm.” He reached behind her, grabbing another two of the conjured vials, but paused, her back almost touching his chest. 

“This potion, though not what was assigned, is worth at least an E,” he said, feeling her body tense so close to his. “In fact, assuming it works as discussed, it may even be worth an O. However, I do not feel it would be in your best interest to test it right now. Therefore you may have a further ten points to Gryffindor, with the potential for more... when we test it another day. It was a very insightful question, Miss Granger,” Snape said, enjoying her gasp of pleasure, “and I must say I am especially pleased to see you thinking ‘outside the box’. Or perhaps, outside the textbook. Five further points... for ingenuity.” He felt her shudder, and breathed in the smell of her hair. _She smells of lilacs and mint,_ he thought, his heart beginning to thud in his chest. _Christ,_ he realized with rising unease, _she smells like...Amortentia._

“So do you,” Hermione whispered, and he froze. She leaned back, slightly, turning her face to his chest. “You smell like parchment and freshly-mown grass,” Hermione said quietly. “That’s what Amortentia smelled like to me.”

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Hermione whimpered, her hips twitching, bringing her more into contact with his body. She was just tall enough that her bottom brushed the front of his trousers and they both gasped. His hands came down to rest on her hips, torn between pulling her closer and pushing her away. _Severus Snape,_ he sternly admonished himself, _of age or not, she is a student. Take your hands off of her, make her forget everything inappropriate that happened here today, and send her on her way - and_ **_stop_ ** _fantasizing about her._

“Please don’t, Sir,” Hermione whispered, and he yanked his hands away and jumped back from her. “No!” She spun around, her eyes pleading. “I mean...please don’t push me away. Don’t make me forget this.”

Snape’s gaze took in her still-flushed cheeks and neck. He watched as she reached up and unfastened her robes, letting them fall from her shoulders. Underneath, instead of the expected blouse and skirt, she wore a soft white jumper and jeans. She moved closer to him, her hands reaching out. She touched his chest, lightly, both hands flat against his robes. “Please don’t take points away because I’m not in my uniform, Sir,” she murmured, then bit her bottom lip again.

_Don’t bite your lip, don’t make me look at your lips again, your soft, plump, juicy lips, I wonder what they taste like, I wonder what the rest of you tastes like…_ Snape gritted his teeth as his thoughts washed over both of them in waves. _Oh god she’s pressing her thighs together, she_ **_is_ ** _aroused. How can her mean, greasy, ugly old professor arouse her?_

“Stop thinking about yourself that way,” Hermione said in a tone completely different from the past half hour, so strident and commanding that he flinched. “Please,” she added, softening a little. “Please don’t think so poorly of yourself.”

“Miss Granger…”

“Hermione,” she corrected. “Right now, just Hermione.”

“Hermione,” he breathed, and she shuddered. His hands went back to her hips, and she pressed herself against him once more. Her breasts were against his chest, just below her hands, and his heart pounded almost painfully. “Hermione, this is… I can’t…” despite his words, he made no move to pull away.

“I know,” she said softly. “I know we can’t really. But we can enjoy it a little longer, can’t we?”

“I...what do you…”

Hermione’s lip was between her teeth again, and she hesitated. “I do, too.” She paused. “...about you.”

_She what? She...fantasizes about me?_ Hermione’s eyes closed and she nodded slightly. _Oh god. Oh fuck. What do you imagine, Hermione? Do you imagine me kissing you?_ Hermione nodded. _Do you imagine more?_ Her cheeks were flooded with heat now, and it was taking a lot of effort not to grind against him. The heat between her thighs had become a steady, pulsing wetness that demanded attention. _Do you imagine us fucking, Hermione? Yes, I can see that the answer is yes. Oh god. How? How do you imagine it? Romance, roses, candles, slow and gentle lovemaking?_ “Sometimes,” she breathed, her eyes still closed. _Do you imagine taking control, making me bring you pleasure and then riding me?_ Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. “I will now,” Hermione whimpered, and he chuckled darkly. _What else, then, what do you imagine? “_ What do you imagine, Sir?” _Oh, I think you are much too innocent to know that,_ he teased. _I think my fantasies would shock you._

Hermione looked up at him, her face an endearing mixture of determination and bashfulness. “Do you imagine it rough, Professor?” she asked, her heart pounding. _Sometimes._ “Do you imagine f...fucking me against the hard stone walls?” _She said ‘fuck’. Oh Christ she said ‘fuck’. Say it again, let me watch your lips form around that filthy word._ “ _Fuck_ ,” Hermione breathed, growing braver as she felt both his body and his thoughts keeping pace with her arousal. “I imagine you fucking me, Sir, everywhere. On my workstation. On your desk. In the Head Girl’s room.”

_Ohhh, you do have quite the naughty imagination, don’t you, Miss Granger? How long have you been having these thoughts?_ “Since the start of term, Sir. At the welcoming feast. You laughed at something Professor Clark said. I’d never seen you laugh before, and you looked...relaxed…and sexy.” _Were you jealous?_ He smirked. _Did you think I was flirting with her?_ “No, Sir. You don’t look at her the way…” Hermione broke off. _Yes?_ Hermione shrugged. _When you are having these dirty thoughts, Miss Granger, what are you doing?_ Hermione smiled primly. “Stirring my potion...writing lecture notes...eating in the Great Hall...studying in the library…” _Go on._ “Sitting in the bath. Lying in my bed.” _Yesss,_ he hissed. _And what do you do then? Do you touch yourself?_ “Sir...are you going to obliviate yourself, too? Or are you going to walk around remembering this every time you see me? I don’t think it’s very fair if I…” _Not fair? You’re the one hearing my thoughts._ “That’s true.” _You’re right, though. I will spend the rest of this year looking at you and remembering the feeling of your hands on my chest. The sound of your whimpers and gasps. The scent of your arousal._ Hermione gasped, flushing in embarrassment. “You can…” _Oh, yes. Highly trained olfactory glands. Every time you squeeze your thighs together…_ he grunted, his thoughts a jumbled mess of his own arousal as she pressed closer to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, their pelvises meeting for the first time.

“Sir? Kiss me. Please.” He looked at her, surprised, aroused, unsure. “What’s the harm if I won’t remember? Give me this, please.” _I like it when you say ‘please’, Miss Granger. Say it again._ “Please, Sir, will you kiss me?”

Snape lowered his head, until his lips were a breath away from hers, but hesitated. Hermione leaned up onto her toes, her mouth meeting his with a stifled gasp. His arms wrapped around her waist as hers came up around his neck, holding him to her, their bodies flush. Her lips parted in invitation, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, teasingly licking at her bottom lip and then up to the roof of her mouth. She whimpered, and the sound went straight to his groin, where his cock twitched against her, making her whimper again and grind into him. _Fuck, she’s so soft. So soft and so delicious. She tastes as good as I imagined. I want to taste her pussy, I want to fuck her, god help me I want to fuck her._ Hermione shuddered, reminding him of their strange connection. _Oh shit. Why do I keep forgetting...oh god she feels so good. Want you. Want you. Want to fuck you._ Hermione’s hips jerked against his, and against his better judgment his hands moved underneath her bottom, lifting her up, as her legs wrapped around his hips. He held her tightly, her parted legs allowing her to grind more closely against him.

Hermione was lost in Snape’s kiss, for the first time wishing she’d been wearing a skirt instead of her jeans. She couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get enough friction. _God, I’m dry-humping my professor,_ she thought. _And he’s kissing me, and he tastes of coffee, and his thoughts are so dirty._ Hermione’s moan was stifled in his mouth.

Snape groaned slightly, thoughts racing through his mind faster than he could control them. _Want you. Want to fuck you. You are so soft. So small. So warm. So good._ He felt her shudder. _Oh, Miss Granger. Ever the swot. So eager to please. So delicious. Want you. I should stop. I need to stop. Want you so bad. Been so long. Need. Want._ Hermione was restless in his arms, becoming frustrated in her attempts to grind against him. _So eager, little lioness, so wanton. Pressing yourself against me. Do you want me as I want you? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want my cock inside you, little one?_ Hermione gasped as his lips left hers and moved to her neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw as he went. _God I need to stop. Want you. Should stop. Want…_

Hermione moved abruptly, and suddenly she was clasping his face gently between her hands, bringing him up to meet her eyes. “We need to stop or we need to continue, Professor, but you’re just tearing yourself up inside right now.”

He swallowed, breathing heavily. He was still holding her bottom with both hands, clutching her to him as though he’d never let her go. His cock was as hard as he’d ever felt it, pressed against the crotch of her jeans. His heart was pounding, his thoughts still racing. “Miss Granger...Hermione. I’m your professor. I can’t…”

“Would you get fired?”

He shook his head. “You’re of age.” He snorted. “And I’m sure no one would think I’d been _grooming_ you.”

Hermione smirked back. “Well, quite. Then why not? I am...very, very willing, Sir.”

Reluctantly, Snape set her back down onto her feet on the floor. “If I take you now, and then obliviate you, it feels...to me...like assault.”

“Oh…” Hermione said quietly. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” She paused. “There’s an easy solution, though, Sir.” She smiled. “Don’t obliviate me.”

“Miss Granger…”

“Hermione.”

He stared at her, helplessly. “Have you ever...are you…”

She nodded, cheeks flushing again. “A virgin, yes, Sir.”

“Oh! ...but Potter….Weasley….Krum?”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed that you’ve been paying so much attention, or grossed out that you’d ever think there was something between me and _Harry_. He’s like my brother.” Her nose wrinkled. “Viktor made it clear he was interested, but he was too much of a gentleman to pressure a fifteen-year-old girl, even after he knew I was probably older -“

“Because of your extensive use of a Time-Turner,” Snape said, with a half-hearted attempt at a sneer.

“Well, quite. And Ron… I mooned after him for years, didn’t I? I thought we’d be childhood sweethearts, you know, like Harry and Ginny. That we’d fall in love and get married and live happily ever after. But it turns out… all we really had in common was Harry. Our shared experiences over the last seven years. And that’s a great basis for a friendship, but not a relationship.”

“You are a lot more mature than I was at nineteen, Hermione. Nineteen?”

“...ish,” Hermione admitted. “Or twenty. Ish.”

Snape snorted. “Well... more mature than I was at twenty-something-ish.” They stared at each other for a moment.

“Me,” Hermione said quietly. “You don’t look at Professor Clark the way you look at _me_. Ever since the welcoming feast.”

He sighed. “I’ve been trying not to.”

Hermione nodded. “I know.”

Snape ran a hand down his face. “Thank you... for saving me,” he said quietly. “I know I should have said it sooner. I just...wasn’t sure if I was happy to be alive or not. I didn’t expect to be. When I woke up at St Mungo’s and Minerva told me that you’d sent the House Elves to save me...I was angry.”

Hermione nodded. “I wanted to come and see you, but I wasn’t sure what kind of a welcome I’d get.”

“A poor one, I think. I’m glad you didn’t. But when you walked into the Great Hall on September first… I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I drank too much wine, actually, trying to stop thinking about and looking at you.”

“That’s why you looked so relaxed,” Hermione put in. “That’s why you laughed.”

“It _was_ a good joke,” Snape said quietly. “I just...wanted to start the new year on my own terms. I got a second chance at life. I want it to be a better one than I managed the first time.”

“Everyone has been talking about how much nicer you are,” Hermione said softly. “I imagine that more than a few girls are fantasizing about you.”

Snape scowled. “I’m not interested in _students_ ,” he said, but his eyes lingered on Hermione’s lips.

“Of course,” she said neutrally.

“Just you,” Snape admitted. His eyes met hers. _Say ‘elephant’,_ he thought, but she didn’t react. “I think the effect of the fumes is passing,” he said gently. “Do you feel more like yourself again?”

“I never didn’t feel like myself, Professor. Every word I’ve said has been the truth.” 

“As have mine,” he rumbled quietly.

She sighed heavily, closing her eyes and remembering the feeling of his lips on hers; his hands cradling her bottom; his pelvis grinding against hers. When she opened her eyes, they were wet with unshed tears. “I appreciate you being honest and open with me, Professor. I ask for your patience when I no longer have the memory of this afternoon to sustain me. I’m sure there will be a lot more staring and fantasizing in my future.”

“I…” Snape hesitated. “I don’t want to obliviate you.”

A spark of hope lit itself inside Hermione’s chest, and her face brightened.

He withdrew his wand from his robes, slowly, so as not to startle her. With a swift and gentle movement, he cast the same diagnostic spell and surveyed the results. Satisfied that she was no longer under the influence of the potion’s fumes, he stowed his wand and his gaze moved over her face. “I… want you, Miss Granger, if you are still amenable to that.”

“Really?” He nodded, and she threw herself at him. 

He caught her, wrapping his arms around her. His lips hovered over hers, not yet touching. “Are you sure this is what you want, Hermione? I do not do things by halves. I am not interested in just a quick fuck, trying to ‘get it out of our systems’. Do you understand?”

“Yes! A thousand times, yes.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” Hermione whined, trying to reach his lips with hers, but he stayed maddeningly out of reach.

He lowered his voice, so that it was just a rumble in his throat. “Do you want to… have sex with me?”

“Yesssss,” Hermione whimpered, “very much yes, Sir.”

“Right now?”

“Please,” Hermione breathed, and he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“Say it again.”

“Please, Sir, I need you to take me. Make me...make me _yours_.”

Snape’s breath hitched. “Again.”

“Please. Please. _Please_ , Sir.”

Snape groaned, turning, half leading and half carrying her to his office door, and through it; through his office and then through the next door, which swung silently open at his approach. By the time they entered his sitting room, Hermione was tugging at his robes, and pulled them off; with a wave of her hand, the buttons of his waistcoat and then his shirt unfastened themselves and the fabric fell away from his chest. She pulled her sweater off over her head, and he pulled her up against him, feeling their skin touching and the lace of her bra against him. He bent his head until his lips hovered over hers again, and she shuddered in anticipation. “Hermione,” he murmured.

“Sir,” she gasped back.

His lips descended to hers, and soon he was devouring her mouth, his tongue plundering and subduing hers. Hermione felt like she was on fire, every inch of her skin longing for his touch, but his hands stayed resting on her hips, as though afraid to touch her skin. “Please, Sir,” she gasped into his mouth. “Touch me.”

“Patience, my little one,” he chuckled, his lips leaving hers to wander down to her neck. He slid his hands down her bottom and lifted, bringing her up against him once more. He mouthed at her neck, his teeth scraping gently against her skin, and she stiffened in his arms. With a wordless grunt, and with her wand nowhere in sight, she vanished her jeans and suddenly she was pressing her core directly against the placket of his trousers.

They both gasped as her softness molded to his hardness, and ground against each other. He felt the lace of her knickers under his fingers and began to trace it, his fingertips caressing the soft, smooth skin of her arse. His cock throbbed between them. “Hermione...I want you,” he murmured into her neck, and she whimpered. “I need to feel you…” as he spoke, his fingers traced the lace of her knickers, and then her knickers had vanished, too. His fingers slid further, until he could feel her slick heat coating them. She cried out, and he moaned. “You’re so wet, little lioness, so wet for me.” His fingers slid easily through her folds, brushing her clit and making her tremble against him. “Do you like that, little one?”

“Yes, Sir,” she gasped, as his finger slid fully into her. 

“You’re so responsive, such a good girl in my arms,” he purred against her throat, making her tremble.

“I need you, Sir.”

“Not yet, little one, you’re going to come for me first.”

Hermione whined, grinding forwards against his cock and then back into his fingers, rocking against him. After a few moments he withdrew his finger and laid her down on the sofa, her legs falling apart for him as she reached up to him with her hands, cold now without his body against her.

Snape hung back, looking down at her splayed across his couch, her hair a riot of curls, her breasts still trapped in their lacy confines, her parted legs revealing her wet pussy. His eyes skimmed over the scar bisecting her chest, lingered briefly on the letters on her arm, and then returned to the small thatch of short brown curls between her thighs. He knelt on the floor and pulled her to the edge of the sofa, nuzzling her inner thighs.

“Sir... _oh, please, Sir_.”

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured into her skin. His hands held her hips as she tried to buck up against him, desperately seeking friction. Her hands slid down her own body, fingers almost reaching her clit before he snapped “ _Incarcerous!”_ and her wrists were bound together. She moaned as he smiled a slow, predatory smile. His tongue trailed along her inner thigh, stopping just short of where she needed it. He waited.

“Sir...please…”

“‘Please’ what, Miss Granger?”

“I don’t…” Hermione gave a whine of frustration. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Sir,” she sighed. She tried to raise her head to look at him, but could not. She stared up at the ceiling.

“Shhh,” he soothed, running his hands down her thighs. “It’s all right.” Leaning up to her, he gently cupped a hand behind her head. “I apologize,” he said, a little stiffly. “I forgot for a moment that you are...in need of instruction.” She whimpered, and he tried to smile reassuringly. “I shall endeavour to help you…” 

Hermione’s gaze met her Professor’s, and her lips quirked. “You’re quite handsome when you smile, Sir,” she offered shyly.

He waved that away. “Now, Miss Granger… your body knows what it needs. And I will give it to you…” he trailed his lips across her lower abdomen, making her hips twitch. “I will give you anything you ask for.” Hermione whimpered wordlessly. “All you have to do is ask. Here, I shall help you.”

Slowly, he bent his head, dragging the tip of his tongue across her clit, just once. She shuddered. “If you wanted me to do that again, you might say ‘please lick my clit, Sir.’” With a smirk, he lowered his head again, and opened his mouth wide before placing it over her clit, sucking it into his mouth as gently as he could, her soft pussy lips swollen in his mouth. She cried out, her hips bucking, and he felt her wetness beginning to coat his chin. He released her with a dirty-sounding _pop_. “And if you liked that,” he drawled, watching her chest heaving, “you might say ‘please suck my pussy, Sir.’”

Hermione gasped. “Please...please put your finger back inside me and...and suck..” she panted “...and suck my pussy. Please, Sir, please!”

Snape stared at her, his fingers clenching on her thighs as his cock throbbed painfully in his trousers. “Christ, you’re a quick study, Hermione.” He let his gaze wander down her body, until it rested on her clit, which was bigger than he’d expected, poking out past her labia, enticing him. “I shall be more than happy to do as you ask.” Hermione twitched under his scrutiny. “Your pussy is delicious, little one,” he breathed, watching her clench at his words. “I can’t wait to be inside you.” She clenched again, and a small rivulet of arousal hovered at her opening.

Gently he wet his index and middle fingers before crossing them, slowly pressing inside her. He felt her shudder, she was so tight, and with a last look into her eyes he lowered his head, sucking her labia and clit into his mouth, her cry of pleasure echoing loudly through his rooms.

He moved his fingers slowly, pushing in and pulling out, as she writhed beneath him. She was so wet that his fingers slid easily in and out of her, and he carefully introduced a third. She shuddered, and he continued to suck gently, batting at her clit with his tongue.

She stiffened, and he knew she was close. Fastidiously he kept the same tempo as she writhed, her hips bucking up involuntarily. Suddenly she went still for almost a second and then she shattered, screaming wordlessly, her pussy clamping around his fingers, holding them inside her. After a moment her hips jerked, pulling her clit away from his mouth, and he smoothed her thighs with his free hand, looking up at her. “Oh, little lioness. Such a good girl.” She twitched, and he smirked. He brushed his thumb over her big, swollen clit, and she jerked. “ _My_ good girl,” he purred, and she gasped, hips pushing up towards him again.

He withdrew his fingers and plunged them in again, and she cried out. “Sir!”

“Are you going to come again, little one? Will you come again so that your sweet little pussy is wet enough to take me?”

Hermione shuddered, her whole body thrumming each time his fingers brushed her clit. “Yes, Sir, please!”

Snape spoke softly, so that she had to stay quiet to hear him, “do you think you can take it, little one?” He pressed his three fingers inside her, withdrew, and thrust again, slowly increasing the tempo. Her ragged breathing and the wet noises of her pussy were the only sounds in the room. He brushed her clit again, and again, watching her. “Do you want my cock inside you, Hermione?”

“Yes!” She cried, clenching around his fingers. “Please, Sir, I need you inside me!”

“Come for me, little one,” Snape purred, fingers relentlessly rubbing her clit. “Come all over me, my good girl.”

“Fuck! Fuck...Sir!” Hermione screamed, a high, wordless, primal sound, her hips bearing down on his fingers as a steady stream of arousal coated his wrist, her scream breaking off into a series of frantic gasps. He kept up the pace on her clit and watched her face as it twisted first in discomfort and then in agonized pleasure as she jerked beneath his hands, almost pushing his fingers out with the force of her explosion.

Gently he withdrew his fingers and soothed her, running his hands over her thighs and abdomen as she gasped for air. With a flick of his fingers the ropes around her wrists disappeared, and he gathered her shuddering body into his arms. She curled herself into his chest, and he tugged the blanket from the back of the sofa down to wrap around her. He marveled again at how tiny she was, cradling her to him as tenderness washed over him, temporarily dowsing the burning flame of his desire. “Little lioness,” he breathed, his face in her wild hair. “Hermione.”

Her face was pressed to his chest, her lips against his skin. “Sir,” she whimpered back.

“I don’t know if I will be able to let you go,” he admitted quietly.

Hermione stiffened, slowly raising her head to meet his gaze. “Why would you?” she asked softly. “I don’t want you to. I want to be yours. I _am_ yours.”

“You don’t know what that means,” he began, but she shook her head.

“I know enough,” she murmured. “I know what you were thinking. When you looked at my lips and imagined me on my knees, with my mouth wrapped around you, my mouth watered.” He shuddered, his still-hard cock throbbing. “When you imagined tying me to your bed and fucking me so hard I wouldn’t be able to stand, I got so wet for you.” He growled, low in his throat, and she smiled, confidence growing. She moved, spreading her legs again and wrapping them around his hips, pressing her dripping pussy against the placket of his trousers, and they both moaned as her soft heat molded to the ridge of his cock. “I know you like it rough, Sir,” she panted, “and I want to learn. I want to please you -“ she broke off as his hands closed around her bottom, pulling her tighter to him as he rose to his feet, ignoring the protests of his creaking knees.

“I’m not deflowering you on the sofa,” he growled into her neck, carrying her into his bedroom and depositing her on the bed. With a wave of his hand, his clothes had gone, and her eyes travelled down his body to where his cock stood proudly, leaning towards her. Her jaw dropped. “Still think you can take it, little one?” he asked softly, his right hand slowly fisting his cock, letting her watch. A bead of precum escaped and she watched, mesmerized. “Taste,” he invited gently, and she nodded, eagerly moving forward, her tongue slipping past her lips and brushing across the head of his dick. He growled and she moaned. “Do you know what you want, little one?” he asked, and Hermione looked up to meet his eyes. “Tell me,” he commanded softly.

“I want you inside me, Sir,” she replied promptly.

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” she breathed. “In my..my pussy, most of all,” she admitted.

“You want me to fuck your pussy?” he asked, cock twitching in his hand, and she moaned, moving to lie down on her back on the bed, wantonly spreading her thighs for him. “Is your pussy wet enough, little one?” he asked. “Check and make sure.”

He watched as her small hand slid down her body, flicking her clit before slowly pushing a finger inside herself. He groaned as her finger emerged with a sticky thread of arousal clinging to her labia. “Yes, you’re very wet, aren’t you, my little lioness.” He moved closer to her, gently wrapping his hands around her thighs and tucking her legs up, so that she was spread open in front of him. “Your little pussy is sopping wet for me,” he murmured in approval, “you’re such a good girl.” He watched as her pussy clenched at his words, and smiled. “My little swot loves to be praised, doesn’t she,” he mused, and she whimpered. He stroked her pussy with one hand as he fisted his cock again, dragging the head across her aching slit. They both moaned. “I need to be inside you, little one,” he growled, but held back a moment longer. “One last time, Hermione...are you sure?”

“Yes! Please, Sir, please fuck me. Please take me, make me yours! Please—ahhh!” she broke off as he gently pushed the head of his cock between her lips, sliding easily inside her slick pussy.

He slipped in more easily than he expected, in fact, and in the next second he was sheathed completely inside her, his fingers still on her clit, and he was astonished to find her coming around him, her hips bucking as the waves of pleasure tore through her. “Good girl,” he gasped, struggling not to lose control himself as her pussy clenched at him.

“Please!” She cried out, hips grinding into him. “Sir, please, fuck me!”

His eyes were wide with surprise but he couldn’t help the snap of his hips, pulling slightly out of her and then crashing back in, and she shrieked, her nails sinking into his upper arms as she continued to spasm beneath him, and he began to fuck her in earnest, far harder than he had planned. She exploded around him again, his balls slapping wetly against her arse, her cries of pleasure spurring him into moving faster, harder.

“Little one, oh fuck, Hermione,” he gasped, “how is this not hurting you, I don’t want to hurt you,” he shuddered, barely clinging to a shred of control, as she gripped him tightly both inside and out.

“Sir,” she cried, “please!”

“Fuck!” He growled, both hands on her hips yanking her closer as he pounded into her, feeling the telltale tingling in his spine, the tightening of his balls. “I’m going to come inside you, little one, I’m going to fill you up with my come. I’m going to be the first to paint your walls with my seed,” he grunted. “Come again, little one, come with me, come with me as I claim you…” he couldn’t speak anymore, but she wouldn’t have heard him, anyway, because she was coming with a scream of ecstasy that sent him flying over the edge, pumping his load inside her as though he hadn’t come in months.

Snape almost collapsed on top of her, catching himself with one hand and dropping diagonally to the bed instead, his cock still inside her spasming pussy as they both gasped for air.

After a few moments his cock had softened slightly and slipped from her, and he moved to lie more comfortably, gathering her into his chest. “Christ, Hermione. Are you...did I hurt you?”

“I’ve never felt better in my whole life,” she murmured hazily back to him. “Are you all right, Sir?”

“I…” Snape trailed off, and Hermione looked up at him in concern. “I’m speechless,” he finally murmured, burying his face in her hair so that she wouldn’t see his silly, besotted smile.

Hermione cuddled into his chest, relishing the way his arms cradled her so gently. She’d never imagined Severus Snape to be a cuddler. Despite all the fantasies in which she’d indulged over the past month and a half, she’d never imagined _this_ . He was holding her as though he didn’t plan to let go, and Hermione acknowledged that the wild, fluttering feeling in her chest, was _hope_ . Hope that he had changed enough to be a caring and nurturing partner. Hope that he hadn’t changed too much to be an adventurous and dominating lover. Hope that when he spoke of claiming her, he _meant_ it.

“You’re thinking too much, my little lioness,” Snape rumbled.

Hermione smiled, pressing her face against his chest. His arms around her tightened, then slowly slackened, as his breathing evened out. Hermione wondered what time it was and whether they’d be missed if they didn’t turn up for dinner, which must be starting soon. With a grin she replayed the events of the last hour in her mind. Professor Snape’s thoughts had been dark in a different way than she would have expected. He didn’t seem to harbour any particular thoughts about her classmates, but perhaps that had been because his thoughts had been consumed with desire for _her_ . Had that been an effect of the potion’s fumes? Hermione wondered. Surely he hadn’t spent the whole of the last month and a half fantasizing about her. What would happen now? she wondered. It had certainly sounded like he was interested in more than a quick shag. Would they have a relationship? Go on...dates? It was hard to imagine Severus Snape dating _anyone_ , never mind dating _her_. Would they have to sneak around? What would her friends say? What would Professor McGonagall say? She sighed, nestling closer to his bare chest.

Snape stirred, his arms tightening around her again. He drowsily pressed his lips to her forehead. “Was I asleep long?” he murmured.

“No, Sir. Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Did you sleep, or have you just been thinking a mile a minute?”

Hermione hid a smile in his chest. “Just thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?” he asked quietly, and she looked up, surprised. He smirked. “I am just as interested in your mind as in your body, Hermione.”

“Honestly?” she asked, and he nodded. “I was wondering what happens next.”

“Short-term, or long-term?”

“Well, both, Sir.”

“Short-term...we can shower. Then I shall summon a House-elf to bring us some dinner, and apparate you back to your dormitory, lest Miss Weasley worry too much about you.” Hermione smiled. “And then, I’d you like, you may summon a House-elf to bring you back to my quarters for the night.”

“Really? I can sleep with you?”

“If you want to.”

“I would _love_ to, Sir!”

“Good. Tomorrow I will connect your room to the internal floo network, so that you can move freely between our rooms, and key you into the wards for my quarters...why are you smiling like that?”

“You’re going to let me access the wards on your private rooms?”

Snape sighed and sat up in bed. Hermione sat up facing him, the sheet loosely wrapped around her body.

“Is it too much, too soon?” Snape asked quietly, not quite able to meet her eyes. “I am...unfamiliar with customary levels of intimacy. My previous... encounters… have ended when coitus was concluded. I have certainly never had someone I wished to have in my rooms at all. I confess I am uncertain as to what is an appropriate stage of a relationship in which to provide a key to one’s home, so to speak.”

“I just…” Hermione chewed her lower lip. “You’ve always seemed like such an intensely private person. I’m surprised - and pleased! - at your willingness to welcome me in like that.”

“I told you earlier that I do not do things by halves, Miss Granger.” His tone was growing colder, his fingers tight where they gripped the sheet.

“Sir...I’m not saying no. I want...you. Us.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione’s heart broke a little bit at the expression in his eyes. He didn’t look 39 right now, she thought; he looked like a little boy who had just held his first puppy and been told that maybe he could keep it.

Hermione smiled and moved up onto her knees to get closer to him, cradling his face in her palms, her fingers touching his long hair, which felt surprisingly silky to the touch. “I’m sure,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him tenderly. She sighed softly. “Will it have to be a secret?”

He scowled. “I’m sure you don’t want your friends to know you’re sleeping with the greasy bat of the dungeons.”

Hermione sighed. “First of all, I don’t give a shit what people think, I only meant that I don’t want you to get in trouble. And secondly, none of that kind of talk, please. If not out of respect for yourself, then out of respect for me and my choice to...to...to care about you,” she finished lamely.

Snape swallowed. “I will not get in trouble. You are of age. Minerva...noticed that I was having trouble getting past the thoughts I was having about you. She told me… that you had had a crush on me, when you were younger. She thought...she thought I should pursue you. That we would make a good couple. I am sure she meant that I should wait for you to graduate first…” he shrugged.

“I did not ‘have a crush’,” Hermione said primly. “As a young student I was fascinated by you; your obvious power, your precisely choreographed brewing...and then, as I got older…”

“Yes?”

“Your voice. You have a such a beautiful voice.”

Snape smiled, and Hermione beamed back at him. “And then I saw you smile for the first time,” she added, “really smile. And that’s when I really started to fall for you.”

Snape pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. “I don’t want to keep this a secret,” he said quietly. “I want to shout from the top of Gryffindor Tower that this brilliant, beautiful girl is mine.”

“Let’s go there now,” Hermione teased. “Never mind dinner and all the rest.”

“I _want_ to,” he repeated, “but should not. We should spend more time together. Make sure we are compatible.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, we should. Will you take me on a date?”

“Of course,” Snape chuckled. “We will have to tell Minerva first. Make sure she has no objections and see what restrictions she will impose. For example, I will probably have to let someone else grade your papers,” he murmured into her hair.

“Okay,” she replied, breathless. “But tonight…” Hermione paused, looking up at him again. “Tonight I can come back and sleep here with you?” He nodded, and Hermione grinned, pressing her lips to his. They kissed languidly, she cradled tenderly in his arms.

“Yes,” he replied eventually. “Please.”


End file.
